You might remember that last year some anonymous soul sent me a couple of pairs of tuxedo/bow tie-themed novelty underwear. Well, that twisted soul is apparently at it again, since this Rudolph the Reindeer thong showed up in my mailbox. Unfortunately, this funny underwear was not outfitted with a tie, as last year’s gifts were. A tie is kinda the point, you know. To ready the thong for a TIE O’ THE DAY appearance, I had to choose a tie myself. Of course, the Christmas balls, er, ornaments Tie o’ the Day was the only correct choice.
When I chose a CHRISTMAS VACATION Tie o’ the Day this afternoon, I had no idea how appropriate my choice would end up being. You see, my “sleigh”— Vonnegut Grace Vibe— needed a basic physical, to make sure it’s all set for dashing through the winter snow. And yes, I had a thrifty coupon for just such a physical, at a shop in Bountiful.
I take outstanding care of Vonnegut Grace Vibe. She was born in 2007, and I’m not ready to give her up yet. She’s never given me a problem, and she still gets 34 mpg. I named Vonnegut Grace in honor of Kurt Vonnegut and Grace Paley, two influential writers who both died in 2007. I love her.
Anyhoo… I guess Vonnegut Grace is starting to show her internal age. I dropped her off at the garage for her check-up, and I got two troublesome phone calls from the mechanic soon after my ride dropped me off at home. Even accounting for the thrifty coupon, Vonnegut Grace’s bill for her appointment was a shocker. For the past few hours, I have been stuck in the exact same pose as Clark Griswold on Tie. And you know darn well such a look on me is scaring the heck-a-rama out of the always-vibrating Skitter.
Diamond-point X-mas Bow Tie o’ the Day is simple, yet festive. It’s a practical choice for wearing around the house all day, which is exactly what I did. Bow Tie isn’t flashy and it’s not bigly. Even if Skitter is the only person— yes, she’s a person— who lays eyes on it, it improves my mood to dress up for my day of whatever it is I do with my days. And I, myself, am worth dressing snappy for. I don’t have to leave the house to be worthy of a bow tie.
I’m also wearing Hat o’ the Day inside, to warm the shaved side of my head. It is my latest hat acquisition. Suzanne brought it home from the office last week, but Suzanne does not wear hats. We made it a law. Hats do not work on her, and she knows it. They make her look like she’s in a funhouse mirror which warps the shape and size of her head’s reflection. It isn’t pretty. I, of course, benefit from the No-Hats-For-Suzanne Law by immediately inheriting any hat that comes her way.
I had to search my Christmas prop box for my tiny red-and-green teeny hat. My Spock ear was extra cold this afternoon, and my new beanie alone just wasn’t cutting it. Soon after I gave my pointy ear its own Hat o’ the Spock Ear, it warmed right up with the rest of my head.
It’s kinda fun to have a Spock ear. And I still think it’s my sexiest feature.
In the cartoon, Linus’ baby blue blanket around the base of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree gave it the love it needed to become its best tree-self. Around our house, Chuck Brown’s X-mas tree thrives by being wrapped in Tie o’ the Day’s rendition of the famous tree.
Skitter and I are especially hoping this tree photo will nudge Suzanne into getting our “real” fake Christmas tree into the house. She has said absolutely nothing about a tree this year, and the tree is her assignment. Skitter and I hope this post will remind her we’re on the countdown to Christmas Day, and we’d like the bling of a decked out tree ASAP. Hint, hint.
This tie is not for you, my friends. “Warm Wishes” poop emoji Tie o’ the Day is my naughty nod to the handful of people I’ve run across in my five decades who seem to have made it their lives’ missions to make jerks of themselves. I can’t testify to how they act with other people, but around me, they’re a blight. Jerks can be known by many labels— nemesis, villain, enemy, pebble in a shoe, etc.. They’re the bad guys in our lives, to varying degrees. Some are harmless and merely annoying. Some can create Category 5 hurricane havoc.
I know I’m not alone. We all have jerks in our lives. We wish we didn’t, but it’s a normal part of life. Some are even in our families. Jerks happen, I guess you could say. I know I feel blessed when jerks are absent from my days. I think the right strategy is to be polite to jerks whenever possible, but we certainly shouldn’t try to encourage them. We shouldn’t make an eternal moral judgment about their souls, but we should use our skills of discernment to keep clear boundaries between us. Jerks can be pesky, and it’s best to kindly avoid a jerk whenever it’s possible. It is also okay to try your darnedest to live a neighborly yet jerk-free life.
Tie o’ the Day isn’t meant to be mean-spirited. Its message is subtle. Unfortunately, I know the jerks who really need to get Tie’s clever message will most likely not realize it’s meant for them. That’s the thing about jerks: Jerks are jerks precisely because they are the only ones who don’t recognize they’re jerks.
Lukas is the son of Suzanne’s niece, Rachel. Lukas’ older brother, Liam, has shown up here on TIE O’ THE DAY a couple of times, but I think this is Lukas’ debut. Lukas turned 1 recently, and I snapped these pix at his birthday party. He posed with the prop bow tie and then tried to eat it. His house was full of family and friends and birthday cake all over the floor. I’m sure you already know that birthday cake on the floor is proof of a successful birthday celebration.
Christmas emojis Tie o’ the Day and I got some sticky hugs from Lukas on his bigly day. I washed up and did laundry when we got home, and Tie went to the dry cleaners the next morning. I can’t wait to do it all again when Lukas turns 2.
I’m swamped with holiday gotta-do’s today. I’m finding no time to settle down to create a new post, so here are a few photos for y’all to check out, from December 2017. I ho, ho, hope you are delighted by them.
Holiday Tie o’ the Day gives us a Christmas-y version of Grant Wood’s masterpiece, AMERICAN GOTHIC. It’s a clever take, and I especially like the romping bunnies. Again, my Delta Rabbit-ness shows.
This year in our house, the snowy winter evenings have set the right mood for assembling puzzles, and now we’re knee-deep in a puzzle binge. We noticed something about putting puzzles together: a puzzle is quiet. A puzzle does not ring or vibrate, or otherwise interrupt. It does not even knock. Golly, doing a puzzle offers silence enough to wander around in your own thoughts. And if you’re not puzzling by yourself, the magical-est magic happens. Suddenly, you find yourself engaged in a splendidly long, meandering conversation with your co-puzzler— an unforgettable conversation which you would never have been able to enjoy in the loud, unpuzzling world.
The puzzle comes together. And the stoopid fact of one missing piece shows itself, front-and-center. I hate when that happens!
According to Mom, for the first 6 months of my life, Dad was also my mother. Mom nearly died giving birth to me, and it took her a few months to recover. Dad did double-duty. Dad both surprised and honored Mom in my baby blessing by giving me her name. “Helen” wasn’t a name they had ever talked about for me, but Dad said it felt right and made perfect sense to him to bless me with her name. It’s a bigly name to carry.
I can remember riding to bee yards with Dad before I was old enough to go to school. I wasn’t any help to him at that age, so I watched him work the bees and talked to him from the truck. The truck radio was always tuned to country music on whatever AM station came in clear enough wherever we were. To this day, I love the smell of a stinky bee truck, with its odor mixed of wax, honey, burnt burlap, and sweat. Years later, I learned that some of these day-long outings were Dad’s idea, when he could see Mom needed a break— even though it made his work day more difficult.
Dad worked his butt off for us. He was a blend of tenderness, and humor, and ethics, and “gotcha.” He was curious and open. He respected everyone he met, unless they proved themselves a scoundrel. He was our dad, and we belonged to him. He loved us quietly and unequivocally.
But Dad’s deepest soul belonged to Mom. When Mom was in heart surgery, he was visibly scared. We were all in the waiting room, and I remember looking into Dad’s eyes. He was lost. After the surgery had been performed successfully, and Mom had arrived in ICU, Dad teared up at her bedside. When he saw Mom finally open her eyes, all I heard him say over and over was “Sweetheart.”
After Suzanne went off whistling to work this morning, I dished out ice cream for breakfast. Holiday Tie o’ the Day is a bigly clue as to who helped me eat it. Skitter didn’t want to be in the actual photo, so Suzanne will never be able to stumble onto any visual proof she ate ice cream with me. We really can do whatever we want when Suzanne’s at work, as long as she doesn’t find out. Suzanne is kind of our year-round version of Elf on a Shelf. We are very, very, very good when she’s got her eye on us. My fear is that she will ask for indoor security cameras for X-mas, so she can keep track of me and Skitter from her work computer until she retires.
